When all will be said and done
by Lunatic.Kaat
Summary: During Season 3, after Bonnie's mom was turned, and because it seemed like everything was breaking apart beyond repair, Elena left Mystic Falls. 3 years later, it is a quite different, stronger and more confident Elena that is forced to come back to save the day. But this time, she is the one setting the rules of the game. *** first try at a fanfic ***
1. Chapter 1

Dear Diary,

It's funny how the universe works. I have been working so hard to keep away from Mystic Falls and its habitants for the last 3 years, only to find myself back there once again, neck deep in vampire problems, forced to do things I hoped I would never have to do any more, see people I swore I would never see, feel things I thought I would never feel again.

Elijah called last night, bearing bad news. Klaus has made a move. Guess he finally decided he needed more hybrids, and that luring me out was quicker than trying to find me. He has bitten Damon. This bite has infected him, much like any normal wereworlf bite would, and it is slowly killing him. And apparently he must have been working with witches, because Klaus says only the blood of the doppelganger can cure him. And once again, we have no choice but to take his word on it.

I have resisted the urge to go back to Mystic Falls or to reach out to any of them for three years, but now I have to go back.

Damon has been bitten almost a week ago. Elijah says he didn't want to tell me before he was sure there was no other way to cure Damon. And there is none, so he told me. I understand why he waited, but I hate that he did. Sometimes it scares me how much I rely on him. He is my only link with Mystic Falls.

But I trust him, and maybe the Elena I was 3 years ago would have felt betrayed and would have done something impulsive and stupid, but I am not her anymore. The old Elena is dead. I killed her when I left Mystic Falls and all the people I loved behind me, and I spent the last 3 years making sure she stayed buried.

That is why, instead of rushing home head first, I spent last night thinking, discussing things over with Elijah, and making arrangements for my trip.

I hope I am ready for what is to come. Elijah thinks I am, and I have learned over the years that he is almost never wrong. But all will ultimately depend on me and how I play my cards with Klaus.

* * *

The train comes to a stop and I am one of the first passengers to bolt out of it, bags in hand. Flying would have gained me a few hours, but there was no way I could have passed security with what I am carrying. It takes me less than 5 minutes to locate the baggage room, and less than that to go through my stuff and leave there what I cannot bring with me. All evidences of my new life. My ID with a recent picture of me, that certifies that I am Lena Summer. I have travelled under that identity until this point, but it is time to go back to Elena Gilbert. I cannot risk having anyone knowing. Because when everything will be said and done, I hope I will go back to what I have. I leave my phone in it too, and my keys. I am about to close the locker when I hesitate, eyes on my handbag. What if some of the things I have in it can give away any information on my new life ? I finally take out my Elena Gilbert driving license, the cash, my sun glasses and leave the whole bag in it. I'm left with only a black duffle bag, containing a few clothes. I guess I'm as safe as I can considering.

Elijah has made arrangements in advance and I find myself behind the wheel of my new rented car in no time. It is the end of the afternoon, the sun is ready to set, and a strange emotion is sneaking its way up my stomach, up my throat and reaches my eyes. I try really hard not to think about the last time I was on this road. Instead, I revel in the feeling of the fresh air on my skin, the smell of the forest, and the quiet of the young night. Nostalgia is a luxury I cannot afford. And because time is also not something I can abuse of, checking in an hotel is not my first priority, and I directly drive towards the Salvatore Mansion.

All is exactly like I remember, the road that leads to the illuminated boarding house, the driveway, the house itself. I turn off the contact and take a few seconds to take everything in.

I am back.

Inside are people waiting for me. People that I used to love. People with whom I have been trough hell. People that I called home. People that I left in order to keep them safe.

And if Elijah and I are right, Klaus must be there too. I rented the car under the name of Elena Gilbert, and I am sure Klaus has little servants everywhere, ready to alert him the moment I resurface. My drive here must have given him plenty of time to make sure he will be there to take me the moment I step foot in the boarding house.

I shakily let out a breath I did not know I was holding and open the car door.


	2. Chapter 2

Dear Journal,

I am going to lose my brother, and I can do nothing about it.

If only I had anywhere to search, but Damon has followed every possible lead for the past 3 years, and nothing.

Nothing I can do in the time that is left. The infection has spread, it won't take long now. A few days maybe. And then I will be alone. Truly alone.

I am going to lose my brother, and she is not coming.

* * *

Stefan stood still in front of the fire, lost in thoughts, far, so far away from this place. He did not feel the warmth creeping up on his skin, nor the faint pain in his jaws telling him he had disregarded the time to feed.

But he knew exactly the moment he appeared in the room.

"He is still alive."

Hands deep in his pockets, he turned around to lay eyes upon Klaus, who was turning his back to him, already pouring himself a glass of bourbon. Stefan could hear the tinkling of the ice cubes in the glass, the liquid splashing over them.

"Oh Stefan, don't be so gloomy."

He could also hear the grin in the original's voice.

"I know he is still alive. I am not here for that."

Klaus turned around, and the younger Salvatore had only time to catch a glimpse of a very satisfied smile on the other's face before he hid it behind the glass as he emptied the drink in one large gulp.

Stefan felt something fall in his stomach, and his whole body went rigid. This could only mean one thing.

"Elena."

The original finally let his smile spread. He made a grand gesture of putting his glass down, like a hourrah.

"Yes my friend. She is rushing home."

* * *

He was now pacing around in front of the same dying fire, and he was very aware of everything around him. His senses were pushed as far as he could. He could smell the faint scent of Klaus' aftershave, the only odor that was not familiar in this room. He could hear Damon rampaging through his stuff in his room, the mild heaviness of his footsteps, proof of all of how bad of a shape he was in now.

And that is why he heard the car the moment it turned to leave the main road and engage itself on the dusty path that led to the boarding house.

He stopped dead in his track, lifting up his head, as if he could almost see her.

Elena was coming home.

To him. To _them_.

He didn't know what he was feeling, all he could identify was nervousness. The weight in his stomach got heavier.

The motor was turned off abruptly. And a deafening silence rang in Stefan's ears. He felt frozen, didn't know what to do. Even when a car door was opened, and then closed, and that footsteps started for the front door.

And suddenly she was there.

* * *

Stefan is a funny bloke. Well, less funny than in the 60s, but still. He amuses me. So _dramatic_.

I let them stare at each other like this is some crucial sacred moment that will define the rest of their life for a second or two before I decide to get up and put myself between them.

"Sweet Elena, a pleasure seeing you again."

I allow myself a real smile, or a grin if you will, and open my arms in a welcoming gesture.

"I've missed you."

She stares icily back a me, but does not make a move at my sight. I go on.

"You had me worried for a moment. I feared you would not got here on time, and we would have to lose Damon. How tragic."

She does not react to my teasing. In fact, she seems quite composed, in control of her emotions. No, that's not exactly that.

I stay quiet as she advances further into the room, down the two steps. She looks determined, but not in a I-am-ready-to-sacrifice-myself-because-I-am-a-martyr way. Something is different.

* * *

She looks exactly the same, he thinks first. Hair a little bit shorter, body a bit leaner. But the rest is the same. She looks at him at the same time his inhumane senses pick up her scent, and he is back 3 years ago, and all he wants is to take her in his arms and wait for eternity to come to an end. He also suddenly remembers that even before she left, they were not close anymore, with him hooked on human blood and not giving a damn.

"Where is he?"

She directs her first sentence to Klaus. Who is more than willing to oblige, an unshakable grin on his face.

"Upstairs, slowly dying"

Her second sentence is for Stefan though.

"How is he?"

He cannot not notice the controlled emotion underlying in her voice. Lips tight, he slowly shakes his dead, a gesture of despair.

"The infection has got pretty bad."

Her gaze drops to the floor, pensive for a second, but quickly comes back to the original.

"So my blood, huh?"

"Ironic, isn't it?"

She does not respond and heads toward the staircase, where she vanishes without looking back once.

* * *

I cannot help but stare at the place where she has disappeared.

_Elena has come back_.

I feel Klaus moving to stand next to me, no doubt staring at the same thing as me. I suddenly feel lighter than I have for a long time.

"You know, I have to say, I was a bit surprised at your choice of bait."

Klaus plays along, still unmoving.

"You mean you thought I would choose you to lure her back here."

In spite of myself, I turn a bit to look at him, crossing my arms in the process.

"Well, it would have made sense. I mean, in case of danger, Elena has never hesitated to risk her life for me."

Like if he is having trouble stirring his eyes from the staircase, Klaus finally spares me an amused look.

"Oh she would have died for you, mate, but for him… he is back to staring at the emptied staircase, … for him she would kill."


	3. Chapter 3

Damon picks up a few dark clothes from the dresser, does not bother closing it and limply throw them in the general direction of the opened bag on the bed. They miserably miss and land on the raffled sheets. He ignores that fact, and heads toward the bathroom. But on the threshold he has to stop, and to lean against the wall to fight off the white spots dancing in front of his eyes.

By the time the dizziness ebbs away, he is sitting on the floor, his back to the wall, arms resting on his knees. He suddenly feels cold. Very cold. He swears under his breath. He is _dead_, he should not be bothered by the cold. He leans his head back against the wall, letting his mind go empty.

This needs to end, he thinks distantly. One way or _another_, it has to end.

And although he tries to stop it, his mind wanders around the room, takes in the furniture, the dust slowly flying and dancing in the light like little gold particles, the cracks of the fire that Saint Stefan had insisted on starting earlier. The sound used to always soothe him. But not anymore. Nothing soothes him much nowadays.

Truth be told, he had always figured he was _above_ caring for such trivial, simple things. You come with nothing, you leave with nothing. He had enjoyed life like very few had, and when his time would come, well, that would just be it. No need to make a big deal out of it. He would leave with no regrets. He was above this all. That is what he thought, _before_. And _now_, in between fits of pain and cough, he sometimes finds himself giving lingering looks to some things full of memories in his room, like... well, just like _Stefan _would. Which pisses him off. Which is good he guessed, pissed off was much more his style.

_Fuck it_, he thinks with feelings, and he makes to try and stand up.

But mid-movement, blind burning pain pierces through his chest. He coughs, coughs and coughs again until he can taste blood on his tongue. He feels like his lungs are on fire, and maybe they are because some scarlet drops escape his lips and fall on the floor.

Please make it stop.

.

* * *

She does not stop when she reaches the top of the stairs, does not hesitate at the door, barely knocks before entering the room. She does not take time to think, and maybe break.

She remembers she used to think a lot, back _then_. She would think, turn everything that happened in her mind, trying to make sense of it, to foresee and anticipate. She scoffs a little. How much good that had ever done her. She had been caught in a tornado since she was 16, and there was no point in asserting how to make things better. You leave, go somewhere else, and do what you have to do.

The way she saw it now, there are some things you have to do, wether you like it or not. No need to cry or be a baby about it. You just do it. Things take a turn for the worst the moment you stop, ponder, and try to get out of doing them.

And that is how she has lived since that fateful day she cut her ties with Mystic Falls.

* * *

The door opens to his room softly lit by a dying fire, curtains drawn. The familiar smell of old wood hits her senses and tries to force memories of another time to her mind, but she brushes the feeling off easily. She is stronger than that now.

The room is a bit messier than it used to, but otherwise nothing has changed, her mind vaguely notices, before her eyes fall onto him.

Only wearing one of his trademark black jeans, he is sitting against the wall, legs propped up, arms resting on them, eyes closed. But all she can really see are the blue veins on his torso, starting from his heart and spreading in all directions, dark tentacles gnawing at his life.

She calls his name, or barely whispers it. No sign that he can hear her.

She starts towards him, not very sure how to do this, and finally drops to her knees when she gets to him, and tentatively makes to touch him on the shoulder.

* * *

He thinks he sees her worried face dancing in front of him, can feel the warmth of her fingers on his forearm.

"Damon?"

The voice has him focusing, and he makes the effort to slowly blink.

"Are you with me?" The same damn voice.

What is happening to him? Klaus had not said anything about going nuts. He distinctly remembers the original gloating about the excruciating pain, the getting more and more feeble every day. The little fucker never said mind fuck was on the menu.

He looks, around the room, a bit lost, before focusing back on her.

She smiles then.

"Hey."

It dawns on him with the strength of a punch. She _is_ here. Staring at him worryingly while he fights to keep his breathing as even as he can.

"So, I leave you for 2 minutes, and you get yourself in this mess, huh?"

He just plays along for the hell of it, refuses to think of the how, the why, and the _what-the-hell?_ He would scowl if he could, but settles for a short snort.

"2 minutes? Funny. It seemed _longer_."

There is malice in her smile now.

"I was talking in vampire time."

That has him laughing.

And then coughing, coughing so much that it seems like it will never end, coughing so much he cannot even take a breath in and feels like he is on the verge of suffocating.

In the fuzzy fog that is his mind, he feels her touching him, gripping his wrist and gently pulling at it, and then lifting his arm over her head, on her shoulder. A tender arm finds its way around his waist, and just like that he is on his feet. Or as close as he will get.

* * *

She still smells like home, he thinks, surfing on the wave of pain.

They made it to the bed so quickly he is almost sure he must have passed out a bit.

But it does not matter. All that matters is the warm body he is relying on, the reality of her hands as she settles behind him on the bed, one leg on each side of his hips, and tries to make him confortable. All that matters is her breathe against his forehead, her hair that tingles the other side of his face.

And suddenly even all of this disappear in a blink, and all that really matters is the tender skin pressing hard again his closed lips. He doesn't waste half a second opening them and his first instinct is to playfully nibble on it, before lazily passing his tongue on the bite. This sends a shiver down her arm, and like if it was the signal he had been waiting, he tightens his grip on her and his fangs break through her skin without hesitation.


	4. Chapter 4

He does not want to ask, but doubts are gnawing at him, and in the end, he allows this small victory to the original for the sake of his mind.

"What are you saying? That Elena would actually be willing to…" The sentence dies on his lips.

He does not do it often, but the words somehow seem too wrong to come out, and so he throws a begging glance at Klaus. Graciously, the original fills in:

"Kill for your brother?"

Standing close to the immense windows, gazing at the darkness outside, he suddenly looks old. Ancient. Stefan is abruptly reminded that he is older than the civilization that saw him come into this world.

"You didn't think that Damon could keep killing people for her, and her forgiving him, without this changing things… altering the balance. Did you?"

The words are lacking the underlying irony that usually is the original's trade mark. They are just words, but for some reason Stefan's breath stills.

Ignoring his reaction, Klaus goes on:

"She would die for you, for her brother, for any of her friend really," he explains while shrugging as if to say "don't ask _me_ why", "but put her in a situation where she has to kill someone to save any of you, and she won't pull the figurative trigger."

Mesmerized, Stefan does not even think about interrupting him, or attempt to deny it. His perceptions are suddenly limited to the original and the truth that he is brutally delivering. Absently, Klaus plays with his glass, seemingly lost in his thoughts now. Stefan just wishes and dreads at the same time that he will keep thinking out loud.

"But put the life of Damon at stake, and the same gun in her hands…"

He does not finish his sentence, bus instead has a go at his bourbon.

"And what?"

Stefan's almost aggressive voice seems to surprise the original, like he really was lost in his world of memories and philosophic contemplations. He looses his dreamy expression and turns to face the younger vampire.

"And she will do it. And it would be funny in a way," he says, in a voice that does carry amusement, or what passes for amusement in the wicked mind of the old vampire.

Stefan is struggling with a surge of anger and bitterness, a surge like he has not felt for a long time. Since he was a human. Since the time Katherine was playing with the love of two brothers. _Shit_.

He knows Elena and him were not that close anymore before she left (hell, she had _told_ him so herself before she left), and he has known, in a part of his brain that he preferred to ignore, that her and Damon had somewhat gotten closer. But the topic has conscientiously been avoided between Damon and him after she ran away, as if they both knew that the fragile balance that had finally found, after centuries of hatred, would not resist it.

But right now, having someone opening this pandora box and rubbing his face in it, he can feel his body starting to tremble, as if it needed to crush or kill something. The force of his emotions scare him a little, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows it is the hunger accentuating the worse feelings in him. He grits his teeth and try to focus on something useful, like making Klaus talk.

"So the plan is... what? You're going to keep Damon on a leash to keep Elena in line?"

He knows that this cannot be the original's big plan, but sometimes preaching the wrong to get the truth does work, and people with an ego as big as Klaus generally like to prove how superior they are. _If you know how to be patient_, he admonishes himself.

"Not quite," the original promptly replies with a short laugh. "I don't really want to bother myself with your brother. No, Im' sorry to disappoint, but the plan is much simpler, I'm afaid. All I need is her blood, which means, I need her alive and with me. The rest is irrelevant."

.

* * *

She has untangled herself from Damon, has wiggled her way out of under him, and is now watching his very still form peacefully lying on the bed. She has been looking at him for a few minutes now, simply standing by the bed, her eyes lingering on Damon's face, the curve of his lips, from which a weak stream of air still comes in and goes out. She knows he is still breathing because she checked, scared for a moment after he went limp in her arms. But he is just sleeping.

Deep in thoughts and quiet, she is absently caressing the white bandage now covering her right wrist, fully aware of the fact she has no time to waste, but making the moment stretch nonetheless. She feels a calm spread in her, similar to a soothing cloak, helping her keeping the cold at bay. A calm that she did not know until tonight she had been missing. It is a weight taken off her chest, a breath released in relief, a warmth coming from inside. She is just standing there, contemplating the panel of emotions that her soul is currently harboring, silent and serene like a bystander, in awe in front of so many of them she has not felt for years. She sees him and beyond. Her silence is like a little prayer, an ode to what used to be, an ode to what could be. In another life.

But she needs to remember the bigger picture here. She has to remember who she needs to be to do what needs to be done. She needs to keep in mind that she ran away to protect them, all of them, although she is painfully aware that her running away is the reason that Damon's life was put in danger in the first place. She thinks that if hell exists, there must be one level where tortured souls are forever facing this kind of predicament, vicious circles that never end.

She shakes her head in the dark, closes her eyes, inhales deeply. And when she is done exhaling, and she opens her eyes once again to the room, she is more in control of herself, her mind is clear and her heartbeat stable and strong.

* * *

She steps foot in the majestic living room at the same time that Stefan crashes against one of the bookshelves placed right at the bottom of the stairs. It takes Klaus the twentieth of a second to follow, lean down to pick up the younger vampire by the neck and throw him across the room, like a child would with a doll.

"What the hell is going on?" She does not scream, but is not far from it.

She passes by Klaus to go check on Stefan, who is trying to get, if not up, at least on his knees.

"Your little boyfriend still thinks he can dictate me what to do. It is getting tiring. And I've never been very patient to begin with."

"You are not taking her!" is the weak but determined reply from her _boyfriend_.

She slows down before she reaches Stefan, reassured to hear him speak, and turns around to look at the original. Who stares right back at her.

_Come on, try and defy me too_, his eyes seem to dare her.

"I am not going with you…" she starts firmly.

It's only preparation, hours, weeks, months of preparation, of training, that enables her to do what she does next. Fully giving into her instincts, trusting with her life – for real – the shiver that runs down the base of her neck, she reacts before any of her senses can pick up on his movement.

"What is _this_?"

Standing at arm length from her now, his voice washes over her, reflecting the surprise in his eyes. His hand, that was only a second ago aiming for her, is stopped a few centimeters away from her skin.

She guesses by the way his jaw tightens on the side of his face that he is using his supernatural force to try and reach her, to try and break the invisible barrier that seems to surround her.

She has to give him some credit though, as he then just lets his hand fall by his side, understanding in a second that no brutal force will affect her physically. He even takes two steps back, removing himself from her personal space.

But she does not have time to enjoy her small victory as his eyes come back up to meet hers. Rage does not start to describe what is swimming in these gray orbs. Cold hatred. Promises of pain to come.

"You have witches protecting you?"

His voice is in shocking contrast with his eyes. His statement is articulated in a very detached voice, as if it did not belong to the being radiating violence standing only a few steps away from her.

She withstands the weight of his glare the best she can while she makes a step forward in his direction.

"No, but I _am_ a creature of magic. Turns out it comes with some benefits after all," she makes a good job of suppressing any trace of victory in her voice. Not the time to brag. _So_ not.

He lifts up his chin a bit, eyes shining with calculating thoughts.

"So you practice witchcraft now?"

She breaks eye contact at last, lowering her head a bit as she pulls up the left sleeve of her leather jacket to reveal a black mark on the interior of her wrist.

"I am not a witch, and I will never be. But I _am_ the doppelgänger. This is a black magic tattoo. I'm sure you have seen one of these before. They do not create magic. But this one can help me tap into the magic that my blood carries. To protect myself."

He does not react at all at her _tour de force _for a few seconds, lapse of time during which all that echoes in the room is the sound of Stefan getting back on his feet. She does not look to see how he is doing, because the fact that he can still moan from pain is a good sign. Considering.

Instead, she keeps her eyes on the original, who stands very still, the way only vampires seem to be able to, and that makes you feel that if you were to blink, they might just disappear.

Which is exactly what happens. Except she did not blink. One second he was here, the tenth of second later, he is not.

She turns around – so slowly, she feels like – to find Klaus with his hand around Stefan's neck again, pinning the younger vampire against the wall next to the fireplace with a force so brutal that she can _hear_ something crack in the back of Stefan's neck. Klaus' other hand is pushing a stake, a stake she had not even realized was in his hand before, to the younger vampire's chest.

She remembers to breathe, drowns under million of panicked thoughts for a full second before she also remembers to keep her calm.

"I do not need to touch you to hurt you. That is what you friends are for," he snickers, his voice as steady as his arm, as if he could stand like this for eternity and not care – and maybe he could.

"Let him go!"

She tries to keep her voice firm and strong, but knows she is failing. The sight of Stefan struggling to breathe does not help, neither does the look of victory in the Original's eyes.

Anger suddenly washes over her, and she gladly gives to it. Anger is always better than fear, or panic. Her hands clench into fists, she takes a step in their direction, and tries again.

"Let him go, or you can kiss the idea of _ever_ making new hybrids goodbye."

He is about to reply when she cuts him off:

"Kill him, and I swear, you won't have a doppelgänger to drain."

As she spits the word, she moves toward him again, and with something akin to contained rage, she slides her leather jacket off her shoulders in a shrug and leaves it behind her on the floor. In one swift movement, she lifts her right wrist and takes the bandage off. On her olive skin, just above the fresh bite, another shining black symbol.

"One tattoo to protect, one tattoo to kill. One thought is all it would take for it to stop my heart," she threatens in voice barely above a whisper.

The moment seems to hang still for a second, while he contemplates what she means by that, and his eyes go back and forth between her eyes and the magic tattoo, before his gaze hardens even more.

"You wouldn't _dare_," he spits.

"Push me, and find out. But remember that I am the last one of my bloodline. Your last chance for ever."

As if Stefan is a toy he was suddenly grew tired of, he throws him on the side, turning to her while the Salvatore brother slides to the floor, learning how to breathe again.

"I will kill all of your little friends. Your brother too. I will make their last moments in this life pure hell, and I will _not_ stop until every last of them is dead."

She can feel herself regaining total control of herself, letting go of the anger she felt a minute before until all that is left is cold detachment and determination. And she lets all of this reach her eyes, filling them. She lets him see the hardness that fills her now most of the time.

"Then so be it," she answers in a voice that carries nothing more than a slight annoyance and resentment. "I am done trying to save one of my friend only to have you threaten another one."

* * *

So many cruel thoughts and diabolical plans are passing behind these charcoal gray eyes. None of them she can begin to fathom. But she knows one thing fore sure: Klaus can not accept to loose. Not to her, not to anyone. He is not wired like that. Put him his back against a wall and he will burn the proverbial wall to the ground, all together with the rest of the house it was supporting, the people living inside and every people they ever cared about.

She estimates at 50 percent the chances that his temper will get the best of him in the next minute and that he will crush them all.

"I am not leaving with you now," the words fall quickly off her lips, "because something is wrong with Damon. I gave him my blood, but I don't think it's working. The infection does not seem gone."

She keeps a straight face, but in reality she is so tense she can feel her fingertips tingle with nervousness. Every fibre in her body is expecting him to snap and lunge at Stefan, or her, whoever's death will satisfy him most.

Elijah has told her a lot about Klaus, and she thinks she has got a grasp on what triggers and motivates him, how he thinks and works. Or so she thought. Right now, she starts to question it.

"That's because it is not gone."

Relief that he has accepted the change of subject washes over her at the same time that his answer gets her to frown her brows.

"What do you mean?"

""Slow to spread, slow to go away. It will take your dear Damon more than one feeding to be cured. Three, I have been told. One daily."

Of course, she thinks. So, two more days during which he knows she won't be leaving. Explains why he didn't directly kill Stefan and try to snatch her upon learning about her newfound magic capabilities. But maybe she can turn it to her advantage, she thinks as a plan is already forming in her mind.

Throwing a quick glance to Stefan, who is still recovering, she steps up to Klaus, getting right into his personal space.

* * *

She is different. No doubt about that. And not only because of her new little witchy tricks. I barely can see the scared little girl she used to be in her anymore.

She always had bravado, I'll give her that, but never much to back it up, except the devotion of the Salvatore brothers. But the girl standing in front of me? Little bit scared on the edge, but hard to the core.

She reaches me in few rapid steps, almost silent, now standing closer to me than any human should dare to.

"I won't go anywhere until Damon is okay."

Her tone ins inflexible, but her eyes carry something else. As she says this, she puts one index finger in front of her mouth in a silencing motion, before pointing it in the general direction of Stefan behind me.

That gets my attention, I won't lie.

"You have me where you wanted, now let me save my friend," she says in that voice that does not match the expression on her face.

Surprisingly, her next move is to reach for my jacket pocket. I let her do, and keep my eyes on her face as she grabs my phone and retrieves it. In less than 5 seconds, she has it unlocked and her fingers are silently pushing buttons.

I play along with her curious game.

"You can have your two days with your brothers lovers, but fair warning: do not try to leave. I don't make the same mistake twice."

I do not have to pretend. I will not have her disappear again.

She gives me back my phone as I finish talking, and, although I am intrigued, I throw her a cold and unfazed look before glancing at the screen.

And what I see on the screen stretches my lips into a ferocious smile.


	5. Chapter 5

_The first year after I left, I had a lot of long sleepless nights that I spent thinking about the people I had left behind. I filled hours reliving moments and imagining what I could have done differently. Some of these nights were spent on Stefan. Stefan, whom I had loved more than I had ever loved anyone before. Stefan, whom I had thought to be my soulmate – I used to secretly think that, because I knew the notion of soulmate was a bit laughable. Stefan, who when conjured to mind now, just inspires nostalgia._

_I laid in the dark for hours on end, chocking on regrets and indecision, asking myself if I did my best, and if not, what else I could have done. I wondered how I could have saved my parents and Aunt Jenna, protected Jeremy better, avoided so many mistakes, and if I did the right thing by leaving. There were so many things that I knew I could have done differently and so much pain I maybe could have avoided. But there is one thing I could never picture myself avoiding. I could never imagine an other path for Stefan and me._

.

...

.

Having to explain herself to Stefan procures her the strangest of sensations. She guesses that if her Mom was still alive and suddenly had something to say about the way her life had turned out, it would probably feel the same. She understands where he is coming from, that he worries and cares about her, but part of her just wants to roll her eyes and tell him that he _doesn't_ understand. Yeah, the strangest of sensations, feeling older than an almost two centuries old vampire.

She does not care much to answer his questions, partly because she cannot really answer them truthfully and she does not want to lie to him, but mostly because she does not see the point.

She hopes she managed to keep these emotions out of her face when he suddenly stops his myriad of questions. They stare at each other in the silence that follows his softly accusing « why didn't you tell us? », and his eyes roam her face as if to read it, until his expression softens and a resigned smile creeps upon his lips. And just like that, they are just Stefan and Elena, and she is reminded that he _is_ two centuries-old and that they have, in fact, shared a very deep connection in the past.

She smiles back.

« I am glad to see you are back to your normal self, » she starts in a soft voice.

Her old self would have reached out, put a hand on his leg to carry how relieved she is to see that sane Stefan is behind the wheels, but the Elena she is now has trouble engaging in personal contact, and she keeps her hands around her legs as they both sit on the steps that line around the living room, only a few meters away from where, not 10 minutes ago, Klaus had threatened to cut their lives short.

As he resigns himself to the idea that he will not get answers, Stefan shrugs nonchalantly, and goes to massage his throat with a grimace as he answers:

« Well… It wasn't easy, » he explains slowly, his voice still a little hoarse, « and it took me almost a year and a half, but… Damon helped. »

She catches the glance that he throws her way when saying his brother's name, but she does not give him anything.

« Caroline too, » he goes on, « she has been a great help. » His smiles broadens a little. « She is going to be so happy to see you. »

The look in her eyes is regretful when she says:

« I don't think you should tell her… »

.

He is starting to pick up on small things about her. Like how she carries herself now, that is different from before. He remembers how she was so open, how he could read her so easily, and how that used to put him at ease. He also remembers how she would get this determined expression on her face when it was a matter of life and death for one of them, and how he had always known that in these moments that he could never do anything but to respect her choices.

She looks a little bit like this now. Determined, but in a softer manner, less easy to read. Her voice is iron like, like a filter he cannot get past. She is not really saying that he should not tell Caroline as much as she is _saying_ not to do it.

He can feel the joy that has filled him since hearing about her coming back subsiding a little bit.

« You are not staying, are you? »

« No, » she says, « I am not. » She leans her head a bit, eyes on her interlaced fingers, and a curtain of dark hair suddenly hides half of her face away. « I'll stay the time to make sure Damon is fine, but then I'm gone. »

« I don't think Klaus will just let you, » he argues.

« I've done it before, » she shrugs and finally looks back to him, « I'll do it again. »

Oh yes, he sees so many differences in her. One of them is that her words do not come out as wishful thinking, or as a naive bravado, as they would have three years ago, but as a confident promise. Another is that he just _believes_ in that moment that she is capable to do it.

He is still trying to wrap his mind around this notion, brows frowning, when she makes to get up. He watches her cross the room to the puddle of clothes in the center that turns out to be her jacket, and only when she bends to pick it up do words come back to him.

« You are not spending the night? » he asks in a voice that he wishes would not sound so… lost. Things are just going too fast for him.

« No. The house is not vampire proof. If Klaus changes his mind and decides to come get me earlier, there's nothing to stop him.»

She looks at him just in time to see him give a short nod and a defeated, self-depreciating half-smile.

She feels a little pang in her heart at seeing him like this, like the battle is already lost and he entertains no illusion about his own usefulness, but she knows better than to try and make it better. Nothing will ever make this better. Her life, his life, have been altered by Klaus, and that was how it was. They _had_ tried to fight, they really had.

« I'm sorry,» she whispers, because it is the only thing that makes sense anymore.

His smile turns sad, but he acknowledges her words with a gracious nod.

« I should spend the night in a place where Klaus has not been invited in. I'll come back tomorrow, » she goes on.

Again, the same quick nod. As if there was nothing left to say.

But as she turns to leave, his voice rises again:

« Tonight you were… What you did, that was very brave.»

She turns around to see him standing in the living room, hands deep in his pockets, calm, dark, handsome and intact, as if the events of tonight had already washed off.

« You are different. You grew up. You are… stronger,» he finishes, his eyes on her face, like he wants to remember her like this.

She quickly nods a quiet thank you before heading for the door.

.

* * *

.

3 in the morning finds her in a small dinner along the road 43. Sitting by the window, she is quietly trying to fight off exhaustion and cold with caffeine.

After leaving the boarding house, she had driven directly to her hotel, a little over 20 minutes away, where she had checked in and spent the next hour or so on the phone with Elijah. He had not been too happy at first about the turn of events, but had agreed with her that they would just have to make do. What else was there to do anyway?

The stupid music they have on in the dinner is slowly putting her to sleep, and for the millionth times, she glances at her watch. The sound of the door opening has her looking back up again just in time to watch a 2000 years old vampire appear. Klaus walks in as if the world was his for the taking, and she is tired enough to admit to herself that it is not all arrogance. He might be the most powerful creature walking this earth. Maybe it does give him a divine right to be such an arrogant jerk. Who knows.

He slides into the seat across the table, and comfortably settles in.

« I'm so glad you came to your senses and decided to give yourself in. I grow tired of killing everyone, » he starts in a very conversational tone.

« I am not giving myself in, » she replies defiantly.

« And I never get tired of killing everyone, » he smiles back devilishly.

They stare at each other for a few heartbeats before a middle-aged waitress appears out of nowhere, notebook in hand, an awfully red smile plastered on her face.

« What can I get you, honey? »

Elena simply shivers at the flirtatious tone and the use of « honey » directed to Klaus, whose grin turns to murderous as he turns his attention to the waitress.

« He'll just have a coffee too, » Elena tiredly, but quickly, replies before he can traumatize the woman.

The waitress goes away, leaving a stream of cheap perfume in her wake, and Klaus' eyes harshly come back to hers.

« So, what can you possibly have to say that would require a secret meeting with big bad me behind the back of your beloved Salvatore brothers? »

« I think it's time for us to talk, » she answers, calm and composed. « To make a deal. »

His stare is intense when he replies:

« You already know what I want. »

« Yes, » she agrees with a nod, « and I am ready to give it to you. »

.

The detachment in her voice ignites something in him, and his stance changes to one of a predator in a matter of a second, as he leans across the table, his stare heavy, cold and scary.

« You are ready to open your vein on my command, whenever I tell you to do it? Ready to be my doppelgänger blood bank, and to help me create my army of hybrids? » he stammers, his accent thick and his tone brutal. « Because that is the only kind of deal _I_ am ready to make. »

« Yes, » she shots back, and her cold composure comes clashing against his hot temper. « I'll provide as much blood you deem necessary to produce your little pets. »

Now he gets suspicious. What will she want in return?

« In exchange, I want us to be allies. »

He scoffs in disdain, and starts to laugh when he realizes she is serious.

« What do you mean? » he asks, curious in spite of himself.

« I already know you will protect my life, for your own interest, so I won't negotiate for that, » she starts, and although he thought at first her detachment was an improvement over the irritably sensitivity she used to display, he can feel her disinterested tone getting on his nerves right now. He is not quite passed the little stunt she pulled at the Salvatore house.

« I want you to protect my interests. First, no more harm will ever come to my friends from your hand. And whenever they are in danger or that a situation arises, I want you in my corner. »

He scoffs again.

« And all _I_ get is a little bit of your blood? » he argues, derision clear in his voice.

She does not miss a heartbeat before answering, and for the first time, emotions get through her coldness and reach her voice and her eyes.

« I will fight, Klaus. I swear I will do anything I can to stay alive, so you will always have access to this blood of mine so precious to you. And I will comply with everything you think is necessary for my safety, as long as you let me have a somewhat normal life.»

He gives the idea an instant consideration before shooting back angrily:

« That'd mean you could not stay here. I would not allow it. Your friends, your brother, they are liabilities. I could not trust you not to go on a suicidal mission every time one of them has a little problem. »

« I know, » she agrees steadily, and between them floats a silent recognition. Like they are on the same ground for the first time ever.

But he needs a little more time to think this over, and so he does what he does best.

« Or I could just push through your magic defenses and knock you out », he slowly threatens, reclining against his seat and absent-mindedly playing with the knife sitting beside his plate. « Don't think I didn't ask my witches about your new little tattoos. And the one that uses your aura to protect you, even with your Doppelgänger aura, you cannot maintain it for very long. Not against me. » His gaze leaves the knife to find her eyes, finally giving her back some of her detachment. Because if something always leaves _him_ cold, it is the prospect of destroying anything standing in his way.

« I could just knock you out. Kill everyone in this dinner. Take you somewhere _no one_, not Stefan, not even Damon, would ever find you should they spend the next 50 years looking for you. Wait for the vervain you no doubt have in your veins to fade away, and then _make_ you want to follow me for the rest of your life. »

.

She suddenly feels really tired. She is reminded that she only slept two hours last night before catching her train, reminded that it has been a very long and testing day, reminded that she nearly ate nothing all day and served as vampire snack. Reminded also that Klaus only understands the hard way.

She drops her head in her hands, exhales slowly, before drawing her fingers across her closed eyes and pushing them through her hair. And then looks at Klaus.

« I guess you could do that. And we will find out together if you can keep me unconscious until the vervain is out of my system, and if you can compel me faster than I can think when I wake up. » She slumps back against the seat, mirroring his position. « I meant what I said earlier. If you want to play it like this, we will play. I am tired, Klaus. You alone have brought more destruction to the people I love than anything or anyone else before. It has to stop. It will stop. I come freely to you or not at all. These are the rules I am ready to play by. There _is_ no other choice. Not for me. »

And she has never said truer words in her life. She is so very much tired. This is as far as she can go.

They measure each other up for a few seconds, his eyes perfectly hiding his thoughts, hers completely displaying her calm resolution.

.

He is the first one to look away, turning his head towards the window to contemplate the blackness outside. She wonders what he sees outside, and what goes on into his mind.

« So, allies? » he says tentatively, like he is also contemplating how is tastes in his mouth.

She nods, even though he is not looking at her.

« Yes, allies. We help each other. »

Face still slightly turned, his eyes come back to hers with a dangerous eagerness.

« I want you to have children, » he says, in a tone that dares her to say no and burn the bridge they are trying to build.

She does not react as much as he would have liked, but her gaze gets distant and he has the feeling that this the first time since they began this strange negotiation that she has to stop and think, really think, about what it entails.

« Ok. »

He cannot hide his surprise before she sees it.

She gives a dismissive shrug.

« I knew it would come to that. »

With reluctance, he admits to himself that maybe he was wrong about her.

« But I have two conditions, » she adds.

Or maybe not. He shakes his head, scoffing.

« I want to decide myself the way and the moment this would happen, » she goes on. « And I want your word that when they come of age, you will make with my children the same deal we are making now. »

He forgets for a second to be the terrible monster that he is in front of what she is offering.

A fair proposition.


End file.
